


Ties, Sugar and the Pillowcase Gun

by Taifics



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Gen, One Shot, Post-Episode: s03e13 Last of the Time Lords, The Master on the TARDIS, Translation, pissing the Doctor off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taifics/pseuds/Taifics
Summary: The Doctor had rescued the Master from being killed by his own wife and took him to the TARDIS...





	Ties, Sugar and the Pillowcase Gun

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Krawaty, cukier i broń z poszewki na poduszkę](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11473797) by [Taifics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taifics/pseuds/Taifics). 



Several weeks had passed since the Doctor rescued the Master from being killed by his own wife. Several unspeakably long weeks of drifting in the time vortex with no intention of landing anywhere. That would be far too dangerous, until the Master used to (even just slightly) to be the Doctor's guest or, as in so many words told the other Time Lord himself, his prisoner slash slave slash fluffy pet.

After overcoming the initial anger of the new TARDIS resident and after securing the ship with the genetic lock, the Doctor went on to some soft forms of interaction. Firstly, he let the Master out of his room (right after removing the most of potentially dangerous items off the reach of his overly curious fingers with some precious help of the clever TARDIS) and then he tried to have an ordinary chat with him... with no successful result. The amount of achieved victories thus was reduced to just this one: taking the Master on the board, more or less, in one piece. In one piece was his body yet not precisely his mind. His poor mental state was not only mirrored by endlessly throbbing drums inside his head, nor by his tendency to violent behaviour, nor by emotionless approach towards the death, nor by the passion for destrucion or superior need for domination. It was visible when it came to the smaller twists as well. For example – ties. That's it – ties. Originally, the Doctor thought that his ties were disappearing somehow with no reason but then mysteriously some other things started to vanish too: his socks, Converses, lately even his toothbrush and one of those round-things from the console room. Maybe the Doctor wouldn't suspect the Master but once he had opened the door to watch the starry sky and saw one of his Converses floating somewhere in the distance. His shoes weren't usually wandering off from their owner this way so he was forced to think that it must have been the other Time Lord to blame for that. The Master yet did not confess to this crime. He did not confess to anything at all as he, or so it seemed, decided he would never favour the Doctor with any verbal statement. The Time Lord clearly did not intend to speak and since some time he was even refusing to eat. That _some time_ yet the Doctor would call the past time. The state of the kitchen he had just entered was the best proof of it. Spilt milk, strewed wrappings, crisps and fruit smashed all over the floor. Battlefield. Total destruction.

“Master!” gasped the Doctor with a faint hint of irritation, looking at the man standing by the opened fridge's door. “What have you done here?”

The Master turned to him, making innocent face.

“What?” he asked with his voice somewhat sleepy.

The Doctor was far too shocked with this battlefield in his kitchen to notice that the Master spoke to him for the first time since days.

“This... this is a complete... havoc!” he sighed with desperation.

“Oh... this. You said, as far as I can recall, that I shall make myself at home, so...” the Master waved towards the pile of crashed eggs, “The havoc IS my home.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I was looking for some sugar for my tea,” said the Master, smiling and theatrically pointhing the cup on the tabletop with the spoon in his palm.

The Doctor made quick three steps towards the table, grabbed the sugar bowl from it and showed it to the Master, frowned.

“Oh,” replied the other Time Lord simply, shaping the funny-looking perfect “o” with his lips. “Well, you put it in not that obvious place.”

The Doctor growled, staring at the miserable puddle of melting ice creams on the floor and thinking how anyone could expect to find sugar in the freezer... inside the box of ice creams... ice creams now removed from the box to make it sure that there was definitely no any hidden sugar in there.

In the meantime, the Master took his tea, ignoring the sugar bowl completely and decided to leave the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” asked the Doctor, when the eccentric guest was passing him by.

“To my cell,” said the Master surprised, meaning his cosy room. “I'm going to create the monstrous gun out of this star-patterned pillowcase you generously gave me. I think that pyjamas buttons would make some wonderful bullets.”

“You clean it up now!” ordered the Doctor.

“For what?” asked the Master, annoyed. “I'd like to eat something later... Maybe... I dunno... Pancakes! And I really, really don't have the slightest idea where's the flour, so...”

The other Time Lord left, giggling.

The Doctor stood alone, starring at the mess for a brief moment and then suddenly he blinked and stormed out of the kitchen bewildered:

“GUN?! WHAT GUN?!” he shouted, running after him.

If anyone was capable of making the gun out of pillowcase it would only be the Master himself.

 

 


End file.
